


of gilded gold

by danielmorgans



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M, i don't know what this is supposed to be, i'm in love with the originals and all their pain and the past you know they had, it's happened, sorry fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2013-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-26 18:37:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/653221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danielmorgans/pseuds/danielmorgans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His tongue curls around the constants of a lie as easily as his fangs do around the neck of a pretty maiden, as his fingers do around the neck of a liar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	of gilded gold

The air is hot and stilted. Suffocating, if breathing was still a requirement. The cloth of his shirt, a deep red for his sins, would be stuck to his skin with perspiration were he a mere man. But he is a God; and God’s do not breath or perspire or die. He is a God playing the role of a mortal, a patron of the arts.

Lying is a craft they’ve long perfected. A family heirloom passed from generation to generation. His tongue curls around the constants of a lie as easily as his fangs do around the neck of a pretty maiden, as his fingers do around the neck of a liar. Klaus lies because he is a Mikaelson, because he is a God, because he is reckless but not foolish, because it is fun.

Lying produces things like courtyards painted in the golden light of a setting sun. A pool of water glimmering in the centre, teasing and manipulating you to sink into it’s cooling depths. _Never mind the crocodiles at the bottom_ , it whispers, _just relax_. Deadly at it’s core, and Klaus likes the poetry of it all.

Elijah had sighed, but under his cardinal robes he hides a dagger. _A man of God_ , he had said, cross hung around his neck like a noose, something like mirth in his eyes.

Rebekah had smiled, forever her brother’s sister, forever her father’s daughter, and traded with him a look that was full of secrets.

She glides past, as though called, a dress made of something flimsy and white cascading down her body like water. She moves with the grace of something unnatural, of death and stillness. His own movements have always been erratic and too-fast. A by-product of his parentage. He is a God, but he is also a dog, and she is made of gold and light and beauty.

His sister looks like she was born to be encased in gold and marble pillars.

And he is not the only one that see’s this.

Eyes follow her every step and she knows it, he knows it. She relishes in it. He snaps necks. That just makes her smile wider, dress bolder, pick the bed of someone he wants alive. It doesn’t matter, he kills them anyway.

She is his, always and forever.

She is his and no one will take her. Not a soldier, or a king, or a servant boy painted in the image of Apollo himself. Klaus hates her golden boy the most. Hates the way their skin blends so perfectly, and how they look so like the God’s of old.

She is his. His muse. His family. His lover.

She is his, so he rips her golden boy’s heart from his chest and leaves it on her bed.

A gift. A threat. A promise.

It says _you are mine_ , and Rebekah smiles again.


End file.
